Suicide Note
by Saber Wing
Summary: Trunks has some epic hard-core angst to deal with.


_**Suicide Note**_

_**By: Angel Wings-008**_

I really need to relax somehow. Unwind. Too bad I don't even know what the meaning of that word is anymore. Stress with a side of anxiety attacks, anyone?

To answer the inevitable questions, yes, this is going to sound just like yet another angsty teen ranting about how much he hates himself. Yes, it's pathetic. Yes, the fact that I need to get friends and a life might have something to do with the fact that I'm typing this up in the first place. But, I digress.

And, you know the best part? Really, here's the kicker – I don't _care_.

Not that that comes as a surprise. It's a happy occasion, come to think of it. After all, I finally achieved such a goal. After a lifetime of caring too much, being an ice prince is a blessing in disguise. Nah, no disguise. Blessing. Just a blessing. Please tell me it's a blessing, because I've been fresh out of those for far too long. Curses seem to be the norm for me.

Okay, calm down Trunks. Stay calm. Numb. That's right. I am, you know. _Numb. Cold_. An _uncaring dickhead_. Things are easier that way. Hey, I had the Prince of all Uncaring Dickheads as a role model, so it wasn't too tough to make myself that way.

Now, you're probably wondering at this point: what the ever loving _hell _am I talking about? Huh, what was that? What's _wrong _with me, you ask? Funny, I was hoping you could tell me. Despite the fact that you're an inanimate object. Eh, details, details. But then again, maybe you're not. Maybe someone will actually stumble upon this document and read it one day. If so, hey there mystery person. Hope you enjoy reading about the pile of bullshit that is living in my universe. Will you? I don't know. I don't _care_.

Hey, there they are. The magic words again. And I have to smile about them. Although it could have been a grimace, can't really tell you which. It doesn't matter. _I don't care, _remember?

Anyway...ranting. Angsty teenager symbolically slitting his wrists with each and every word on this page. Emo boy typing furiously on his laptop about his feelings. Angry, aggressive loner who mostly keeps to himself. Grab a stereotype out of a hat. Pick your poison and run with it, because I've got a million of 'em. Whatever makes you happy, because I don't give a flying fuck how others see me anymore. That's just how things work. People constantly pass judgment because it makes _them_ feel good.

Today was the same as every day of my life lately. They're starting to blend together, truthfully. Fall out of bed, throw on a pair of day-old jeans. Grab my backpack and trudge towards the door, fake smile at mom and pretend to give a damn about a word she's saying. Pointedly ignore father's sarcastic comments about the human educational system, and his weakling son who never trains with him as often as he likes, because _oh no_, the world will stop spinning if _his highness_ doesn't get what he wants. Blow off annoying little sister. Tell myself it doesn't matter as father smiles at her when he thinks no one is watching.

Go to school, bullshit my way through classes, because really, I already know this crap anyway.

Convince myself that all of my friends, along with Goten, no longer exist, since they have decided they are going to give me the silent treatment until I agree to 'get some help.' Goten thinks I'm depressed. Says I need to 'talk to someone.' Ha. Ha. HA. What does he think he's accomplishing? He's supposed to be my _best _friend, isn't he? He says he wants to _help _me? What is he trying to do to help me, huh? Is he going to _ignore _me into submission? Maybe he doesn't know me nearly as well as either of us once thought.

Smooth one, best friend. You should know that I've had plenty of practice in this department. As if one more person forgetting I exist actually matters in the long run anymore. What's one more thread in the fucked-up tapestry that represents my life?

Walk home, stare blankly at my textbooks as I lie on my bed (and no, I never play any of that ridiculous music stereotypical loners listen to. That shit is for _ass-hats_. _Bullet For My Valentine _all the way). Choke down enough of my food as not to attract suspicion at dinner. Once again pointedly ignore any and all comments about _lazy, half-witted, undisciplined _offspring.

Shrug mom's hand off my forehead, and force some irritation into my normally colorless, lack-luster tone. Say yes, I'm fine. I'm just under some stress at school, nothing I can't handle. No, I don't wanna talk about it. No, I'm just gonna go upstairs and do my homework now, okay? Watch in amazement as the same damn excuses work yet again.

Back up to my room, collapse onto my bed. Tell myself for the millionth time that day that _I don't care, _and_ it doesn't matter. _Then it hits me once again that my efforts didn't work. Can't even fool myself with such veiled, pathetic lies. Devastation and self-loathing ensues, and I admit to myself that I will probably _always_ care. About everything. Grit my teeth as I hold back inevitable waves of tears. Am unsurprised when the sobs cripple me anyhow.

Pull out a razor blade from my pocket, and sigh as sweet serenity washes over me, along with countless streams of blood as I mercilessly slash into my wrist. Wonder, silently, whether or not I should carve a word this time, or something. _Death. Despair. _Yeah. I like it.

Go to sleep, press repeat, and play through the same damn song again and again and _again._ No idiot, not an actual song. Don't you know a metaphor when you see one?

That, my dear mystery person, is a day in the life of Trunks Briefs, Saiyan prince extraordinaire. So, you can imagine my surprise when it turns out that this time, I actually have a slight deviation to report. Another step somewhere between slitting my wrists and going to bed. Something decidedly new as compared to a typical, emotionally exhausting 24 hours in my world. I'm as shocked as you are:

Turn on laptop, rage at the injustice of the universe itself, get annoyed at the perpetual sameness of my days, and then start typing up a document filled with these aimless, bleak ass thoughts that have consumed me for so long. Cheerful, ain't it? What? It's still something different. I never said it was the good kind of different. Considering the fact that I usually just suppress everything, I'd say it's an interesting step in...well, in some direction or another.

Ah, damn. Remember what I said about this just _sounding _like yet another angsty teenaged rant? That was a bold-faced lie. Who the hell am I kidding? It doesn't just sound like one, that's exactly what it is. That's exactly what it is, and I won't deny it further.

Because, you know what? I admit it. It does matter to me. Everything. It matters so much, it hurts.

My name is Trunks Briefs, and right now, I'm honestly not sure how I can ever go on. I have to end this. Now. _Before_ the pain becomes so bad, my own sorrow consumes me. Literally. Lame way to die. If I'm goin' out, might as well pick the method and circumstance myself, right?

Hmm. I've got it. Hey, whoever you are, if you're reading this, you will find my body huddled behind a tree in the back yard, with a katana sticking out of my gut. What's more awesome than seppuku, right? Ritual suicide. Honor, and all of that other happy crap. A little traditional and cliche', sure, but there were probably some cool ass samurai who used that method. It's good enough for me.

Don't morn me, mystery person. Maybe I'll find something that will make me happy in the next life. Now, I must go. Sorry for bailing and giving up this way. I...I just...

I am laughing my ass off, because you just got _owned. _

Confused? Let me help you out with that. I may or may not have been moping around for the past few days, for the sole purpose of catching your attention. I may or may not have 'accidentally' taken a slice out of my forearm; just enough for the blood to get all over the sleeve of one of my shirts, of course. I may or may not have dropped it on the staircase near the laundry room, right in the direction I knew you'd next pass going to the gravity chamber, and I may or may not have left my laptop open on my bed, with this document icon on my desktop, titled in bold letters: _**Suicide Note**_**. **There might have been a bloody razor blade lying next to it...you know, for effect. Also, I may or may not have made sure I was mysteriously absent for the past few hours, including suppressing my power level so you would get worried and wander in here searching for clues.

Told you I'd get you good this year. April Fools, dad ;D

_**Eternally Yours (Can't escape DNA, after all),**_

_**The Prince of Everlasting Darkness, Depression and Pain**_

_**A.K.A Trunks**_

Vegeta blinked a few times, re-reading the last paragraph once more. What...the fuck? His perplexed expression turned into a scowl. That little _son of a bitch. _In the space of five minutes, he had gone from worried, to panicked, to heartbroken, to confused, and finally, to royally _pissed off. _All for a prank? One stupid, childish _prank ?_!

"Trunks, you little _asshole! _You are going to pay dearly for this, boy!"

Said asshole was currently standing outside the doorway of his room, smirking at Vegeta with his arms crossed over his chest. Vegeta stalked a few steps forward, shaking with rage. "Aw, but dad, I'm a lonely teenaged boy with no one to talk to, and no one who cares. Aren't you going to prove me wrong and proclaim your undying love for me, as you hide your face in your hands and sob at the injustice of it all?" he asked, voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

"Over my _lifeless corpse _would anything like that _ever _happen_!_"

"Nah, over mine, but you're on the right track."

"Argh!" Then, mumbling something about humans and their idiotic holidays, he physically pushed Trunks out of the way, stared him down (which was awkward considering that he had to crane his neck to do so) and walked off.

Fuck April Fools Day.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

So, a few nights ago I decided I wanted to write something Vegeta and Trunks again. I started typing...and this is what happened. I'm not entirely sure where it came from, but I think it's pretty hilarious. There are a shit ton of Trunks-centric self-harm fanfics out there, and I felt like taking a jab at that by making it as cliché as possible. Did I succeed? ;).

Thanks for reading ^_^. Reviews are appreciated!

And by the way...I just got all of you. April Fools ;)


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